


The Fragility of an Alchemist

by arintriestowrite



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anorexia, Bulimia, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, F/M, Hurt Edward Elric, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Edward Elric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23547610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arintriestowrite/pseuds/arintriestowrite
Summary: Edward Elric has an eating disorder. He hides it pretty well, but he can't keep hiding it forever.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 14
Kudos: 119





	1. Hiding in the bathroom

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't read this if you're triggered by eating disordered behavior. This is my first fanfiction, so go easy on me.

Edward Elric, now 16 years old, kneeled in front of the cold, hard, porcelain. He retched again. And again. Until he was dry heaving. He groaned, chugging more water from the mug next to him and sticking his fingers on his left hand down his throat once more. He used to make the rookie mistake of using his right hand. He hated cleaning chunks out of his automail. Drool poured out of his mouth and down his flesh wrist.

How long had he been in the bathroom again? Must’ve been at least ten minutes. Possibly longer. Time seemed to disappear in that place. He’s spent up to an hour purging before. He had to leave before people got worried about his disappearance to the bathroom. 

Suddenly there was a knock at his bathroom door. “Brother? Are you okay?” A familiar voice asked worriedly. It was Alphonse. Dammit. Edward froze and felt his blood run cold before he cleared his throat. “Im okay, Al. I think I just ate too fast, that’s all,” he responded with as much strength as he could. He lifted his head and stood up. He felt more dizzy than he had been in a while. He wiped his fingers and mouth off on the toilet paper and flushed it down. He opened the door, standing face to face with his brother. “Y-yeah. I’m fine,” he stuttered. Al said nothing.

He woke up at 3 am, feeling very hungry. It wasn’t surprising. He always felt hungry after a purge. He groaned softly and clutched his stomach. “Brother, what’s wrong?” “Nothing, Al. I’m fine.” His stomach rumbled. “You keep saying that. We should get you something to eat,” Al said. “It’s 3 am, I’ll eat in the morning.” He rolled over and closed his eyes, ignoring the protests of his brother and struggling to fall asleep before finally succumbing. 

Edward awoke to his brother shaking him. “Brother, you said you’d eat in the morning. It’s 10:00 now.” Ed groaned and sat up, his loose blond hair falling onto his shoulders. “Fine, fine. Just give me a minute.” He absolutely dreaded eating, let alone in front of other people.

Dressed and with his hair braided, he walked with Alphonse to the military cafeteria. He grabbed some bread and an apple, sat down, and began to take small nibbles. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat more than that?” Al asked him, concerned. Ed froze for a second. “This isn’t all I’m eating.” Al didn’t say anything. It started with small nibbles, but he ended up eating the entire piece of bread and the apple, save for the core. He was just so hungry. He tended to overeat after restricting. It was a vicious circle. He grabbed some potato soup, scarfing it down quickly. He then excused himself to the bathrooms like he usually did after a meal.

Back in the bathrooms, Ed shoved his left hand further down his throat. His face felt hot as tears threatened to form at the corners of his eyes. “Dammit,” he sobbed. Al didn’t deserve to see him actively starve himself, so he ate in front of him, then threw it up behind his back. He hated puking but felt like he needed to do it. Ed hated the feeling of being full and throwing up just made him feel better. He was done purging for now but something was still weighing on his mind. Something felt wrong. 

He sat cross legged on the bathroom stall’s floor, covering his ears in an attempt to block out the voice of his disorder. He couldn’t shake the paranoia. The fear. The anger. Anger at himself. If Al found out- if ANYONE found out- he didn’t know what he’d do. Yet he was still in denial. “I can’t have some stupid eating disorder,” he thought. “Losing weight is just fun. Yeah, that’s it. Fun.”

What was he so afraid of? Was it because if someone knew about his eating habits he’d have to stop?

Tears streamed silently down his face. Other than his ragged breathing, he made no noise. “My throat hurts,” he mumbled quietly to himself. He heard footsteps and stood up hurriedly, putting his glove back on. When he heard the stall door next to him shut, he washed his hands quickly and left, only pausing to look in the mirror to check if his eyes were red.


	2. Heavy as metal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward weighs himself and Alphonse talks to Mustang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where I'm going with this story.

Edward scratched at his flesh wrist. He did this when he was stressed or anxious. Sometimes he even used his alchemy to make his metal fingers sharper to scratch himself better with. It often left marks and scratches that bled. It just felt comforting to him. He had a lot of bad habits like that. 

Stood barefoot on the cold hardwood bathroom floor, he shivered. He had gotten so cold since he started purging. He stepped on the scale with bated breath and waited.

123 lbs. 

Fuck.

He knew that his automail added extra weight, but he never figured out how much that was. Hot tears poured out of his eyes and dripped down onto the scale he was standing on. He struggled to hold it together as he sunk down onto his knees. 

His hand clasped over his mouth as he fought back sobs. He tried to calm himself down so no one would hear him through the bathroom door. 

Deep breaths. It’s not the end of the world.

“All I have to do is eat a little less,” he thought. “I WILL lose that weight.” Determination reflected in his eyes as he looked at himself in the mirror. His fingers ran across his prominent ribs as he smirked.

He hid the scale behind the toilet and put his shoes back on. He was careful not to take too long in the bathroom weighing himself so people didn’t get suspicious. Paranoia followed him everywhere. 

In his room, he picked up the journal under his bed and flipped through it. He wrote down his current weight and the date. 

He had gained 2 pounds since last week.

He sighed and brought his legs up to his chest. Struggling to hold back even more tears, he let his golden hair down. The alchemist felt some sort of piercing coldness. It wasn’t a cold that could be helped by piling on blankets, it was a cold from within. 

He rolled over in his bed, shutting his weary eyes and slowly caved in to the darkness, barely falling into a restless sleep.

An hour later, he awoke in a cold sweat, breathless. “Wh...What?” He panted. He couldn’t remember what he was dreaming about but he awoke feeling anxious and sick to his stomach. His hair was matted and damp with sweat. 

“I need to get my mind off of things. I need to talk to someone.” But who?

“Wait.” He paused. “Where’s Al?”

Colonel Mustang was doing paperwork in his office with Lieutenant Hawkeye by his side when he heard a knock at his door. “Come in,” he called out. If Alphonse could’ve looked worried, he would’ve. Silent except for the clunking of his armor, he sat down across from Mustang. 

Hawkeye was the first to speak. “Alphonse? Is there something wrong?”

“I think there’s something wrong with brother.”

Mustang frowned. “Do you want me to call him for you?”

“No! I mean, I don’t want him to know I’m worried! If I’m right about this and I confront him, he would never admit to it!” Alphonse clenched his fists and hung his head. 

“What exactly do you mean?” Mustang felt his face getting hot. 

“He’s been really sick lately, but he won’t tell me what’s wrong. He barely eats anything and he spends a lot of time in the bathroom.”

Riza looked concerned as she leaned over and whispered in the colonel’s ear. 

Roy suddenly stood up, slamming his hands down on his desk. “That’s not possible, Hawkeye,” he growled. 

“Why not, sir? Don’t you think he’s been acting strange lately?”

Alphonse spoke in such a quiet tone he was barely audible. “What’s wrong with brother?”

“Alphonse, I need to ask a few questions.” Riza said as Mustang gathered his composure and sat back down.

“If it’s to help him, I’ll do it.”

Riza cleared her throat. “Have you noticed any physical changes in him? Any significant weight loss?”

Alphonse thought for a second. “Definitely. He’s been losing a lot of weight. But isn’t he just sick?”

Hawkeye and Mustang looked at each other. 

“Any changes in mood or temperament? Does he seem weak or exhausted?” Hawkeye started writing down his answers as she asked questions.

“He has been a lot more grumpy lately. And if he is exhausted he does a good job of hiding it.”

“Does he have any noticeable eating habits? Any chance he’s been throwing up?”

“Well, he has been eating a little less. And I’ve heard him throw up a couple of times. What are you getting at?”

Mustang cleared his throat. “He might have an eating disorder, Alphonse.”


	3. The plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al has a plan to make sure Ed is alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very happy that people seem to be enjoying this fic. Comments are appreciated!

With the help of a few people, Alphonse devised a plan to discreetly find out if what Roy and Riza said was correct. He also couldn’t risk Edward finding out about the plan because he would deny everything and get defensive, possibly violent. He needed to gather evidence before he made any outlandish claims. Alphonse was upset, no, devastated. But he needed to do this if he intended to give his brother the help he needed. Even if Edward didn’t have an eating disorder, he was still sick in some way and still needed help.

First, Alphonse would go visit Resembool for roughly a week, staying with Winry and Aunt Pinako. He knew if he told either of them they suspected something was wrong with Ed, they’d go visit him immediately and ruin the whole plan. He was going to tell them that he was visiting because Ed was going on a trip to Xing and he had nowhere else to go. 

Then, Hughes was to invite Edward to stay at his house in the guest room, monitoring his eating habits. 

If Hughes noticed anything was wrong at all, he would tell Mustang and Hawkeye immediately. Then, before confronting him, they would take him to a doctor under the guise that they’ve noticed he hasn’t been feeling well lately. If he refused the doctor, which they had a feeling he would, they would just skip that step.

“This better work,” Mustang muttered under his breath before picking up the phone. “Hey, Hughes. I need a favor.” 

“What is it?”

“Edward is sick. I need you to monitor him at your house and keep track of his eating habits. Under no circumstance are you to tell him or anyone else about this plan. I’ll explain once this is all over.”

“Got it.”

Mustang hung up the phone and spun around in his chair to look at Hawkeye. “How did you know Fullmetal might have an eating disorder?” 

“I... used to have one, sir,” she said, flustered. “I can’t stand the thought of him suffering like I did.”

Roy nodded. “We’ll get him help. I promise.”

Edward knocked on the door to Mustang’s office. He felt numb, physically and emotionally. “Come in,” Roy called from inside. He opened the door, eye bags visible and exhaustion written across his face. 

“What did you want me for, colonel bastard?” Ed spoke, faking energy and vigor. Mustang saw right through him. 

“Hughes actually wanted you to stay with him for a week or so.”

“What? Why?” Edward felt his face grow hot. Paranoia filled his head. 

“Well, you have nothing to do for a while, so why not stay with Hughes? His daughter loves you.” That part wasn’t a lie. Hughes’s daughter did love Edward. 

Edward sighed, feeling his heart sink. “I’ll do it,” he mumbled reluctantly.   
Mustang smirked. “Good. You’ll stay with him for about a week starting today. Alphonse won’t be with you.” 

“Why not?” Edward exclaimed. He was getting more and more paranoid the more the colonel spoke. 

“He wanted to visit Resembool, but he wouldn’t tell us why. You can’t go with him in case we need you for something. He’ll be back soon.” Mustang said nonchalantly. 

“Great. Just my luck,” Edward muttered under his breath. 

“Anyways, pack your bags. Hughes wants to see you as soon as possible.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Fine.” 

Back in his room, he started to pack what little he had into a suitcase he had with him. He included clothes, his journal, bare essentials, and his scale. He couldn’t stand the thought of not having his scale or journal with him. He also packed them because he was paranoid if he didn’t, someone might find them. 

Al walked into the room just as Ed was finishing up packing his bags. 

“Brother, did the colonel tell you I’m leaving for Resembool soon?”

“Yeah, he did.” Ed chuckled. “I’ll miss you, Al. Make sure to call.”

“I will!” Alphonse exclaimed. “My train is leaving early tomorrow morning.”

“Well, I’m living with Hughes for the time being. I’ll see you tomorrow, Al.” Edward picked up his suitcase, waving goodbye to his brother and shutting the door behind him. 

Alphonse sat down on the bed, sighing. “I really hope this works,” he mumbled to himself.


	4. Not everything goes according to plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward is not okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short chapter, sorry guys. I'm working on making my chapters longer.

After seeing Al off at the train station, Hughes drove Edward back to his house, where he would monitor him for a week. Hughes talked his ear off the whole time about how excited Elicia and Gracia were to see him. Ed started to doze off halfway through the trip, only halfway paying attention to what Hughes was talking about. 

He was unconcious when they arrived at the Hughes’s residence. Hughes lightly slapped his back, startling Ed and waking him up abruptly. “We’re here!” He exclaimed. 

“Ow…” Ed mumbled, rubbing his back where Hughes hit him. “C’mon, Ed! Come see my lovely wife and daughter!” 

Edward stepped out of the car, only to feel a sudden dizziness wash over him. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and walked to the front of Hughes’s house. 

Hughes opened the door to be met with a gasp and Elicia yelling “Daddy's home!”

She ran up to the door, hugging her dad as he bent down to match her height. Hughes turned his head to face Edward. “I’ll show you to your room,” he said as he picked up Elicia. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The room had a queen sized bed and a bathroom. “There’s a bathroom connected to the room and you have a bed to yourself. Make yourself at home, Ed,” Hughes said as he shut the door behind him, leaving Edward alone with his thoughts. 

He sighed, set down his suitcase, and flopped down onto the bed after taking off his shoes. A sudden pain shot through his stomach and chest, and he flinched. This type of pain really wasn’t unusual. Although it was common, he never got used to it. 

He curled up into a ball, laying on his side. How long had it been since he kept something down after eating? God only knows...

Tracing his fingers over his hip and rib bones, he mumbled to himself, “This can’t be healthy.” His bones poked through his skin in an unnatural way. He shivered and wrapped himself in the thick, fuzzy blanket on the bed. 

Before he knew it, he fell into a deep yet dreamless sleep.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hughes knocked on the door. “Edward? Supper’s ready,” he called. No response. He knocked again before slowly opening the door to find a sleeping, somewhat peaceful-looking Edward. Hughes smiled and walked over to shake the sleeping boy awake. Once he got close, he noticed how small Edward really was. He brushed it off as him just being a teenage boy with high metabolism. That was, until he put his hand on Edward’s arm to wake him up. 

Hughes frowned. Edward was bonier than he thought it was. 

He shook the sleeping boy awake anyways, gently waking him up and telling him that supper was ready. Hughes masked his concern just long enough to wake him up. He remembered Roy said he was sick, but he couldn’t have imagined just how sick he actually was. 

Soon, the blond boy stumbled sleepily into the kitchen. This routine tired him. Eating, pretending to like it, then throwing it up just exhausted him. Nonetheless, he couldn’t stop. Not without some outside help. Then again, he wouldn’t be caught dead getting help. 

Supper was roast beef and bread. Edward put as little as possible on his plate as he could without making anyone concerned. He felt tears forming in his eyes as he sat down in his seat at the dinner table. Hughes must’ve seen his expression. “Edward? Is everything okay?” 

Edward looked up at him, brows furrowed and tears threatening to spill. 

Gracia looked up from her meal, concerned. 

He can’t do this. He can’t do this he can’t do this he can’t-

“Big brother?” Elicia said. 

“I.. just give me a minute”

Choking back sobs, he covered his mouth with his coat sleeve and stood up quickly. Ignoring the concerns of Hughes’s family and the dizziness that came with doing something as simple as standing up, he turned to leave. His vision started to go black as the world spun around him. He struggled to breathe as all his senses left him suddenly. He closed his eyes before hitting the ground with a thud, losing consciousness.


	5. Do it for her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward is in the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Bit of a longer chapter today. Hope you like it!

Edward felt fuzzy. That was the best way he could describe it. He could barely form a coherent thought no matter how hard he tried. He tried to open his eyes, only for it to be far harder than he thought it would be. It felt like 20 pound weights were attached to his eyelids.

He groaned and struggled to open his eyes fully, taking in the cold, sterile hospital room and soft murmurs of a couple familiar voices around him. Hughes was the first one to acknowledge him. “Edward… don’t freak out, but-” As soon as he said that, Edward looked down at his emaciated body to see an IV sticking out of his arm. 

He. Hated. Needles.

His eyes went wide and his breath caught in his throat. He clumsily reached for his IV before a gloved hand roughly clasped his wrist. 

Roy frowned at him. “Don’t you dare, Fullmetal.” 

Edward could barely think, let alone speak. 

“I’ll go tell the doctor you’re awake,” he said curtly as he let go of Edward’s wrist. “Hughes, make sure he doesn’t pull out his IV.” 

“Got it.”

Mustang briskly walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Edward,” Hughes said calmly, “What’s the last thing you remember?” 

Edward’s voice croaked as he spoke. His throat was extraordinarily sore. “I was at your house.” Hughes nodded. “Anything else you remember?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well,” Hughes said as he took a seat, “You took a pretty nasty fall at supper. You started freaking out for no reason. Are you okay?”

Slowly, memories started coming back as his mind became more clear. He struggled to recall the events that took place before he passed out. He remembered being dizzy and almost crying at the dinner table. 

He frowned. “I’m just fine,” he mumbled. 

Just then, Mustang walked in with the doctor. She pushed her glasses up further on her nose, not really bothering to look at her patient. 

“My name is Doctor Miller,” she said, flipping through the papers on her clipboard, “And you are Edward Elric?”

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered. He felt a sudden hot wash of shame fall over him.

“I need to do a physical exam. First, I’ll check your height and weight. It’ll only take a second.”

He stood up from the bed so she could check his height, briefly remembering the IV and taking a couple deep breaths. The doctor directed him to a stadiometer and scale. He had grown several inches since the last time anyone called him short.

She pressed the top of the horizontal ruler against his head. He held his breath as she called out his height. Five foot six inches. 

Then, she directed him to the scale. He immediately scratched his arm out of instinct. Feeling slightly dizzy with anxiety, he stepped on the scale. 117 lbs. He didn’t know how to feel. 

Doctor Miller looked thoughtful for a second. She scribbled on her clipboard, pulled out a calculator, and typed in some numbers. “Good news,” she said plainly. “Your BMI is in the normal range.” Edward started to breathe a sigh of relief before she continued. “But,” she said, “You also have to consider how heavy your automail is. So you’re likely far below the average BMI. To be frank with you, you also don’t look like you’re at a healthy weight.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling embarrassed. 

Hughes spoke up. “I had to carry him to my car to drive him here. His automail may be heavy, but the rest of him isn’t.” The corners of his mouth tugged downwards before his expression went back to being neutral. 

“Hey! What are you getting at? Are you calling me anorexic?” Edward snapped. He felt cornered and scared - like a feral animal trapped in a cage. 

“Just let us help you, Ed.” Hughes said sadly. “Please.”

Roy snapped back at Edward. While Hughes felt sadness and pity, Roy felt anger. “We ARE calling you anorexic. And as my subordinate, you should learn to take care of your body. How are you going to fight like this?” He clenched his teeth.

“I don’t have some stupid eating disorder!” Edward spat back. 

“Yes you do! And the fact that you won’t admit it is borderline delusional.”

Edward fell silent. Soon, there was a knock on the door.

Mustang smirked. “Good. She’s here.” He called for the guest to come in.

“Lieutenant?” Edward asked as Hawkeye walked in.

“Hawkeye, talk some sense into Fullmetal,” Roy said and looked at Edward. “We’ll leave you two alone to talk,” he said as him, Hughes, and Doctor Miller walked out of the room. 

Riza sat down in a chair she pulled up to his bed as soon as she heard the door shut. She took a deep breath and shook her head. “You know Ed, I used to have an eating disorder too.”

Ed slowly raised his head to look at her. “You… did?”

Hawkeye nodded. “It’s something you can get over. I believe in you.”

Pouting, he shook his head. “I don’t have some stupid disorder. I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were.” She cleared her throat. “None of this makes you crazy. It makes you vulnerable, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

Ed looked away. “No one will leave me the hell alone.”

“It’s because we care about you. Listen Ed, you’ve been through so much. It’s incredible. But no matter what, you have to keep living. After all, you have someone you love, right?” Riza smiled.

He felt his face grow slightly hot. “Yeah. I do.”

“Do it for her. Recover for all of us. And if you can’t do that, do it for yourself.”

His lip trembled slightly. 

“You’re tough, Ed. I know it’s hard. But you can live a normal life, free of fear and misery. I promise.” Riza spoke honestly.

His brows furrowed and tears formed in the corners of his determined eyes as he gave a slight smile, looking directly at Hawkeye. 

“I’ll do it.”


	6. Road to Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winry visits Edward in the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting in like a month! I got busy ya know?

It wasn’t going to be easy. Edward had been dealing with all of his issues on his own pretty much his entire life. The only one who ever even knew he was struggling was his brother. Even then, he never directly confided in anyone about his eating disorder. Now he was going to have therapy, where he would confide in a total stranger. That didn’t sit right with him.

But he had to start somewhere. So why not start with people he trusted?

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clearing his throat nervously and tugging at his hospital gown, he picked up the phone hanging on the wall after dialing a familiar number. Edward’s hands shook with anxiety. 

“Rockbell residence, Winry speaking.”

It felt like there was a lump in Edward’s throat. He swallowed before speaking. 

“Hey Winry, long time no talk,” he laughed nervously. 

“Edward? Aren’t you in Xing?”

An awkward silence hung in the air.

“Who told you that?” Edward shook his head. “Nevermind that, is Alphonse with you?”

“Yes, why? Don’t tell me you broke something again,” she said, the disappointment palpable over the phone. 

“No, it’s nothing like that! I didn’t break anything… this time.” 

He lowered his voice. “Listen, Winry. I’m…” he felt a sudden rush of blood to his face. “I’m in the hospital again.”

A heavy sigh was heard over the phone. “Again? What, did you get into another fight?”

Silence.

“Oh shit,” Winry muttered. “Are you okay? Where are you? I’m coming over as soon as I can.”

“Winry,” he said softly. “Please don’t worry about me.” 

“Where are you? I’m coming over.”

Edward sighed and briefly debated if he should tell her. “I’m in Central,” he hesitantly told her. 

With determination in her voice, she said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Without so much as a knock, Edward’s hospital room door burst open. 

Winry was, by all means, ready to curse him out. She was ready to hit Edward with her wrench and call him stupid, even with Alphonse right there next to her. 

However, when she saw Edward she couldn’t feel anything but anguish.

Even Alphonse, having seen him more recently, was shocked. 

Sitting before the two of them looked more like a human shaped bag of skin, bones, and metal than a person. 

His tangled blond hair rested on his shoulders. The bags under his eyes make him look even more like a skeleton. His gaze looked away from the two of them and towards his lap, where his hands rested. 

Winry sniffled. “Edward?” she asked meekly. He looked up at her, his face growing pale as he realized she was crying. 

Shit. 

She turned her face away from him and covered her mouth. Her shoulders shook slightly. 

Alphonse put a hand on her shoulder, only for her to swat it away and storm out of the room. 

The brothers awkwardly looked at each other for a second. 

Edward swiftly got up and walked towards the door, his metal foot clanking against the ground with every other step. 

“You should leave her alone for now,” Alphonse’s soft voice spoke up. 

Edward stopped in his tracks. “I need her to know that I’ll be okay,” he said. 

He pushed past his brother and briskly walked through the hospital halls, trying to find the distressed Winry. 

After walking for a few minutes, he was starting to give up. He was just about to go back to his hospital room when he heard a sound.

Quiet cries. 

He ran around the corner to see the mechanic with her knees to her chest trying to hold back sobs and failing. 

Quietly and slowly approaching her, he knelt down next to her and softly spoke.

“Winry.”

No response, just more cries.

“Winry, please look at me.”

She lifted her head to look at Edward, tears flowing from her eyes and down her cheeks, her brows furrowed and her eyes red

Edward looked at her calmly and put his right hand on her shoulder. “I’m okay,” he said. “I promise you I’m fine.”

Winry wiped a tear from her cheek and said, “Why do you look like… that?”

That stung a little. 

“I…” Edward paused. “I wasn’t eating right. But I’ll get better. I’ll do it. For you. For Al. For myself.”

Winry put her head in her hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I felt like I couldn’t. It’s not just you, I couldn’t tell anyone.” 

She was quiet for a moment. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“You didn’t know,” he said soothingly. “It’s not your fault.”

She stopped crying and fell into his arms, draping her arms around his neck. He gave a slight smile and patted her back, then started stroking her hair. She wiped her tears and they stayed like that until Alphonse found them.


	7. First therapy session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward goes to therapy. It doesn't go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to wrap up this fic soon. Maybe another chapter or two. Don't worry, I'm working on another, angstier one!

Several weeks later, he was finally at a healthy enough weight to be released from the hospital. With a good therapist, he’d be better in no time. 

Except that’s not exactly true, now is it? 

Even with therapy and years of trying to heal, recovery is difficult to maintain. Relapses happen. Permanent and irreversible bodily damage happens. Bad days can set you back a lot in recovery, especially if you just started. 

Edward knew that. He knew he might not ever fully recover, but he was going to try regardless. He had a few rules he made for himself. No weighing himself, no skipping meals, no bingeing or purging, and no counting calories. 

The day he was released from the hospital was also the first day he had therapy. He hated that word. And he hated the concept. Come to think of it, he just hated the idea of therapy in general. 

He stepped into the cold, clean therapist’s office after a knock and a “Come in!”. His new therapist was already sitting in a chair across from a couch. She had a clipboard and a pen.

“Hello! You can sit right over there,” She said, pointing at the couch. She pushed her glasses up further onto her nose and flipped her mousy, brown, shoulder-length hair. 

He slowly made his way to the couch, sitting down and looking at the floor. 

“Edward Elric?” She asked.

He nodded.

“My name is Julia Parker, but you can call me Julia. I’ll just get to know you a little for our first session, okay?”

He nodded again, not feeling like talking. 

“Do you have any family?” She asked innocently.

He couldn’t help but chuckle a little. If only she knew. “Yeah, I have a younger brother.”

“Okay, cool.” She said, nodding her head. “Why don’t you take your coat and gloves off? It’s a little hot in here anyways.

His mind drew a blank for excuses. “Can’t,” he said. 

“Don’t worry, plenty of my clients have scars.” She smiled at him. Her politeness just pissed him off in a weird way. 

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s a long story, and I don’t feel like talking about it.”

“Well, that’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?” Julia smiled. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, taking off his gloves. 

“Aw, what happened to your arm?” Julia said with a slightly condescending tone.

“Like I said, long story,” Edward replied. 

Julia frowned, then changed the subject. “So what brought you here in the first place?”

He sighed and leaned back, resting an arm on the top of the couch. “Stupid eating disorder,” He said simply. 

She put down her clipboard and leaned forward. “That’s something I never understood,” she said. 

“What?”

“I never understood why someone would choose to hurt themselves like that.”

Oh hell no. 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” He spat. 

Julia raised up her hands. “I just don't know why you’d choose to have an eating disorder! It doesn’t make any sense to me!” 

He felt his face growing hot. “I didn’t choose to have an eating disorder you stupid asshole! Who let you give advice to people and get paid for it?”

“Then why do you make yourself sick?” She retaliated, folding her arms. 

“Maybe it’s because I saw a little girl turned into a hideous chimera then fucking die! And maybe starving myself or throwing up when I did eat helped distract me from it!” He was getting heated, almost blind with rage. 

“That’s not healthy!” She yelled back.

“No shit, asshole! Fuck you, I’m out.” He got up and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. 

He got into the car he arrived in and put his head in his hands, holding back tears. Fuck. 

Hughes was in the driver’s seat, looking at him with concern. “Ed, are you-”

“Just take me home, he said shakily. 

They drove back to where Edward called home for the moment without another word. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alphonse was there to greet him at the door of the Hughes’s residence. 

“How was therapy, Brother?”

Ed pushed past his brother. “Great,” he mumbled. 

Hughes looked at Alphonse. “He doesn’t seem to want to talk about it,” he said quietly. 

They heard a door slam, and Edward was gone from view.

Inside the guest room, he flopped down onto the bed, sighing and taking off his coat. He used to be cold all the time, but he’s since warmed up. Possibly from the weight gain. He shuddered at the thought of gaining weight. He definitely didn’t want to think about it. 

He poked at his stomach, which wasn’t sunken in anymore. He could no longer see his bones, and he felt a sense of longing about it. People were telling him to be happy that he was no longer dying, but he didn’t feel the same. 

Still, he was going to keep going. Find a better therapist and follow the rules he made for himself. As long as he could find a way to open up, he’d feel better soon.


	8. Everything will be okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward gets to a big recovery milestone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter!! Stay tuned though because I have plenty more edgy Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction to post.

It was now a long time since Edward had any disordered behavior. He was finally starting to feel better, physically and mentally. His birthday was coming up, and he felt nervous about what he was going to eat.

He made a promise to himself that no matter what, he would eat and keep it down. No matter how big of a panic attack he had, he wouldn’t resort to old habits. 

It had also been a few months since he was assigned a new therapist. It was going well, surprisingly. It took him a while to open up, yes, but he started to feel more comfortable expressing himself.

His new therapist was amazing; nothing like his first one. Not only did she have an eating disorder, she completely recovered from it, which was amazing to him. He never thought that was even possible. 

On his birthday, he had an appointment that he got Hughes to drive him to. 

Edward stepped into the therapist’s office for what seemed like the millionth time. Clara was her name. 

She greeted him with a warm smile and a hello, as was routine for her. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

He always felt weird talking about himself. Somehow, Clara made him feel less weird. It’s what therapists are supposed to do, right? 

Still… he still felt some sense of guilt over seeking help. Like perhaps he didn’t deserve to feel things. Or he didn’t deserve help. It always felt weird seeking help instead of dealing with it on his own.

He tried not to think about it as he walked out of the session, feeling much better. He always felt better. 

He waved at Hughes and stepped into his car. They greeted each other and drove home in near silence. No one except Clara wished Ed a happy birthday yet, and he was starting to think they all forgot. 

They arrived at Hughes’s house, still not really talking to each other. Ed was starting to stress a little bit. Was he in some sort of trouble?

Opening the door, he noticed all the lights were off.

“Hello?” He called into the seemingly empty house. 

The lights flicked on and a chorus of “Surprise!” was heard from all over the room. 

“Wha…” he started to say before he yelped as someone hugged him from behind. 

“Happy birthday, Ed!” Winry exclaimed, still holding onto him. 

He smiled, trying not to tear up. He looked around, taking in the streamers, decorations, and people. 

The only person that looked somewhat out of place there was Mustang. 

“Colonel? Why are you here?” Edward asked with genuine surprise.

He cracked a rare smile. “Believe it or not, we care about you,” he said as Hawkeye locked arms with him.

Edward rolled his eyes and scoffed, looking away with a hint of embarrassment. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was now time to cut the cake. It was nerve-wracking, at least for Edward. 

He tried not to show it, but he still shook when he held the knife and his breath caught in his throat when he looked at all the food laid out. It was… a lot. It was a lot to take in and a lot of food.

His only goal was to eat one piece of cake. That’s it. That’s all he had to do. 

He sat down in the wooden chair in front of the intricate circular cake, shaking a little. Everyone was gathered around the table, quietly chatting. He lifted up the knife and cut into the soft, sweet cake.

He cut himself a normal sized piece. No: not a ridiculously tiny one. He wanted to try. 

People started to stare and it was getting to be a little too much. He took a deep breath, leaned forward, picked up a fork, and took a bite.

Huh. 

That wasn’t bad. 

That actually wasn’t the awful nightmare he was thinking it was going to be. He breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was going to be okay.

At least for right now, in this moment, everything is okay.


End file.
